


the essence of Kichess

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Boku no Chikyuu wo Mamotte | Please Save My Earth
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-30
Updated: 2003-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: Mokuren reflects on the meaning of being Kichess...
Relationships: Mokuren & Sarjalim, Mokuren/Shion (Boku no Chikyuu wo Mamotte)





	the essence of Kichess

** Disclaimer: Please Save My Earth isn't mine. **   
  
  
We live in beauty and yet we are not satisfied by simplicity. Why do we as beings go around thinking that making things 'better' is a path that everyone must take?   
  
And then they say that science must prove everything because there are results, but what does that really mean? Isn't it all a false sense of control over things we don't know or can't understand? I find it very distressing indeed.   
Then, they turn to religion, if they like, to find out things that one cannot understand by themselves. It is because it is beyond them and they still want to control what is around them, so they call this being 'god'.    
  
But I, as Kichess, never thought of it that way.   
  
Sarjalim was someone I was raised to admire and give my life to, but I didn't look at her as a holy being because of her title, but by the way she was portrayed. I studied her picture to see what was her essence.   
For hours and hours, I watched her big eyes and the wide-spread arms before me all covered with light and whiteness. But what was it that she represented?   
  
Did she ever want to become human? Or rather, was she a human who had lifted all of herself to become the person she is now adorned for? I know I should have been grateful that I was one of the chosen, and I am, but when I look around, I feel that things have been complicated beyond repair.   
  
I am a scientist for the answers and I am Kichess to come up with even more questions.   
  
Shouldn't that have been the other way around? I don't know. Even if I am revered as holy, I still feel only human.   
  
I have watched over my own beautiful planet that became desiccated with modernization. Oh, I remember the times when I looked into my father's blue eyes and ran out into nature before me, embracing it as if I were the sun.   
One day, he asked me, "What do you see?"   
I pointed at the large yellowish-orange circle in the sky. "I see the sun."    
"That's what Sarjalim is," he told me as he poked my forehead.   
I blinked my eyes and looked at him, smiling even though I didn't understand.   
  
Now, I understand that Sarjalim is a person. Or rather, that is my image of her, the one that formed within my own mind. My father wanted to tell me she touched everything, but how could I do that?   
  
The only thing that came to mind was to sing.   
Sing and sing…   
  
But what good could singing do?   
  
I wrapped myself in white cloth as I touched the window, almost as if I was caressing the blue Earth in front of me. I wanted so much to be there and to see what my father saw. His eyes were the color of this gorgeous blue planet before me.   
I wanted him to teach me more of what I needed to know. To understand myself.   
  
And so I sat down while watching the Earth. I wanted to sing and sing to it to tell how much I loved it, even if it didn't know me.   
  
I didn't want to disturb anyone, but my heart was going to burst. There was no other way for me to vent but to sing out my heart in words that I knew and knew not of. All I knew was that the feeling in my chest would be lulled temporarily until the next wave of confusion came to consume me from deep within.   
  
Was this what a Kichess meant? You had to tear yourself apart to understand who you were? Was that what it all came down to?   
  
Then I didn't want it.   
If people were only going to be kind to you because of a title, then I want to be a peasant. I don't want to be admired for something that I am not.   
  
In my desperation, I pressed my fingers even more onto the window. Tears started to come out of my eyes.   
  
There are so many things I want to know and there are so many things I want to say, but when I get the chance, they melt in my mouth and never come out. And in the end, my words are never said and never heard.   
That's why I must sing and sing until my heart is content. Even though the plants go crazy with overgrowth, it is the only time I am truly selfish because there is no other way for me to say anything.   
  
Through the smiles and the sympathetic nods, I am still trapped inside here.   
  
And the only one who seems to know a glimpse of me is Shion. Yet, he can push me away just as violently.   
  
Sarjalim, I don't understand how am I supposed to help people when I can't be with them? I must be among the crowd of people in worship of you, but when someone dies, I can do nothing about it. I must answer so many people's questions, but there is no one who would dare to answer my own, thinking that you would tell me your word directly.   
  
But I am still me, whomever that is.   
  
This is tearing me apart and my words are like the sun. Breaking myself into individual words and phrases, I spread myself around trying to touch everyone and everything.   
And yet, I am still crawling around helplessly with a desert before me trying to find where and who I am.   
  
Because at the rate I am going, I will hurt Shion the more I get involved and I feel he is the only hope I have. But in the end, it must be finished, even if I am incomplete.   
  
He knows, though. He sees the me that I cannot see yet.   
  
At that moment, Shion came to find me and embraced me. "What are you doing here so late?"   
"I want to sing." I closed my eyes.   
"Then go ahead."   
"But the plants will-"   
He interrupted, "I'll take care of it myself if it comes to that. You can blame it on me."   
  
Thank you, Shion.   
  
Then, I began to sing…   
  
That's why Sarjalim, I ask you to please always protect this Earth. Out of my selfishness, make me one with it at the cost of my soul, so that I may be able to protect something that I love.   
Let these people be satisfied with simplicity. Material progression isn't the only means of proving your existence. No, not at all.   
  
We are only better once we know who we are.   
  
That was the answer I came up with to describe you, O Great Sarjalim.   
  
But for me, my answer to myself was: The words I know and do not know, I will sing them for as long as I can because as long as they come together, I will know who I am eventually.   
  
I am a collection of the lyrics I sing, whether or not they are understood.   
  
That's why I will continue to sing on and on.   
Until my heart is completely open…   
  
Until there is no more distance between scientist, woman, and Kichess within me.   
  
** Owari. **

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I did this, but I felt like writing for Mokuren today.


End file.
